


Alternate Orison

by Xf4evr



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 08:03:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19291639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xf4evr/pseuds/Xf4evr
Summary: In an alternate universe where Mulder came a little late, Scully wasn't able to grab her gun, and Donnie Pfaster had his way with Scully.TW: Extremely graphic descriptions of rape and violence.





	1. Chapter 1

Spoilers: Irresistable, Orison

Trigger Warnings: Graphic Rape & Violence

I wasn't satisfied with the end of Orison, and I don't think Donnie Pfaster was either. An alternate universe where Mulder came a little late and Donnie grabbed Scully right before she got her gun.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters yadda yadda yadda. . .  
\----------------------------------------------------------

Scully was gagged and trying not to hyperventilate. She had fought Donnie Pfaster unsuccessfully in her bedroom. Her underwear was stuffed in her mouth, and her pantyhose tied her wrists. She was in her pajamas, and could hear the water running, filling the tub.

Donnie Pfaster was titillating with excitement. He had been waiting years for this moment. He couldn't wait to get her soft warm body in the ice cold tub. He wanted to collect her hair, keep her fingernails, and watch her beautiful crimson blood flow down her body into the tub, complementing the color of her glistening hair. He was a little disappointed that her fingernails weren't red, but he was so excited he didn't mind.

Scully wiggled her way towards her gun under her bed when Pfaster ripped her out from under the bed. She struggled but he carried her to the bathroom. There were bubbles in the bath, which was still running, and candles lit around the bathroom with the lights off. He threw her on the ground and stared her in the eyes. After a few seconds she realized he was panting heavily with excitement, his erection pushing against his pants. “I've been waiting so long for this. . . For you,” he said in an exasperated, sultry tone.

She was filled with fear, but tried her best to hide it. She didn't want to give him any more control over her than he already had, but he knew she was petrified. It was obvious. She tried pathetically to squirm away from him with her arms still tied behind her back, but he flipped her face down and started to pull down her pants and ripped off her shirt. She really started to jerk, so he put his knees on the top of the back of hers and slammed her head down onto the tile by the back of her neck with one hand, and with the other he ran his fingers through her shiny, red hair. “Oh Red. . . The things I'm gonna do to you. . ." He pulled her head up by her hair so he could put his mouth to her ear. "Too bad you won't enjoy it as much as I will. . .” he whispered as he trailed his hand down her back to her ass. 

After she was fully naked he wrapped an arm around her neck and grabbed a knife. He slowly began to cut her belly as she screamed through the gag. She was trembling in fear and pain and pissed on herself, partially because she was afraid and partially hoping he was a clean freak and would get off of her. Scully had learned in her FBI training that it was common for fetishists and sexual predators to have OCD, and it was not uncommon for potential victims who urinated or defecated themselves to get away. She was wrong: he became even more excited by her urination, as he because even more sexually excited by how scared she was. “Looks like we made a little mess,” he whispered in her ear, looking down at his now soiled pants. “Now we really need to take a bath.” Scully kept trying to scream through her gag, and Donnie threw her on the floor again, and started stripping himself naked. She watched helplessly and confused, her head concussed and bleeding from hitting the tile so hard. She had no control over breath and was hyperventilating and tears rolled down her cheeks. She saw Pfaster was completely nude, and erect, his cock at least 8 or 9 inches, girthy, uncircumcised. 

She again tried and failed to get away, this time he picked her up and forced her into the tub. It was harder for him to fight her in the tub when she arched her back, so he shoved her head under the water. She shook and splashed but was not strong enough to get out, and after a few seconds of torture he pulled her head up. She still couldn't breathe because he gag was wet and nose plugged with soapy water. “You gonna be a good girl now?” he asked with an evil grin. She was crying but furiously shook her head yes, anything to be able to breathe! He removed the gag and she choked and coughed furiously for several seconds gasping for air. He grabbed the knife again while she was distracted and sliced part of her back. He wrapped his hand around her mouth before she could scream. She was bleeding profusely now, the water in the tub was turning red with her blood. He got his legs out of the tub and dragged her towards him. She tried to fight him, but she was disoriented from having her head dunked in the tub, shock, blood loss, and had already used up most of her strength fighting him. It took her a moment to realize what he was doing. Oh God no please no don't let this happen!

She struggled with what little strength she had, but his cock was already lined up with her tiny opening. She wriggled and writhed, but in one swift motion, he thrust his fat cock in her while letting out a loud moan of pleasure. He was way too big, long and thick. He didn't just stretch her to her limit, he fucking tore her. She arched her back instinctively in immense pain, but he forced her back down. She screamed as loud as she possibly could, muffled by his hand. “Fuck I've never been in something so tight before,” he said, with his throbbing member in her bleeding, tiny, torn pussy. She was even more tight because of all the pain she was in, and was completely dry except from the blood now gushing out of the walls of her vagina. Tears started pouring out of her eyes. She didn't think she'd make it out of this alive. They'd find her bloody, mutilated, violated body in her own tub. Mulder was lose his mind. “Stop moving, I'm already struggling not to cum too fast with your tight ass pussy,” he said shoving her hips down. She still tried to fight him, so he shoved her head in the tub again.

He slowly pushed his cock in and out of her as she splashed in the tub, then let her up again. She didn't scream while she was gasping for air. She was glad she couldn't really feel him inside her and hurting her while she was hyperventilating. She was more focused on surviving than stopping him from raping her now. Most of her body was going numb from the cold, blood loss, and shock. He did a cycle of drowning, fucking, and cutting her. He was completely obsessed with her, and had been since he first laid eyes on her five years ago. He needed to feel her asshole too, so he shoved his cock right in. Her ass bled worse than her pussy, from tearing both sphincters, and was even tighter. He must have been at it for at least half an hour, came inside her pussy and her asshole, and was so excited he still had an erection. It was his first time raping someone, and he'd dreamed of this for months. He had never had the courage to act out his anger sexually in this way before, but after being in prison for five years, he wanted to make her pay in the worst way. And he knew this may be the last time he was going to be alone with her, or any woman, so he was going to go out with a bang.

Scully only fought back now when he put her head under water, and soon she was too weak for that. With her strength finally, completely gone, and Scully on the border of losing consciousness, Donnie continued to fuck her mercilessly and violently in the blood filled tub. He pulled her hair and she struggled just to keep her head above the water. She tried to hold on to life, shivering, crying, coughing, but she was overcome with tiredness and exhaustion that she fell unconscious. He didn't stop fucking her, and was so into it her never heard Mulder come in Scully's apartment.

Mulder came through Scully's front door with his Sig in hand, began scanning the entryway to her home. He saw the remnants of Scully's struggle with Donnie in her bedroom, furniture toppled over, broken glass. He heard splashes in the tub and heavy moaning coming from her bathroom. He burst through the door, and jolted with horror at what he saw. 

Scully's pajamas ripped in a pile on the floor. Men's clothes. Blood. Everywhere. Pfaster in the tub, getting out. Naked. Covered in blood. Erect. Blood on his penis. Pfaster looked at him with this stupid fucking “Oh shit, I've been caught” guilty look. And Mulder shot him in the face and chest. Donnie dropped to the floor like a lifeless puppet immediately.

Scully in the tub. She'd sunk down after Pfaster got out. He pulled her up and checked for a pulse. He couldn't feel hers over his. He was panicking. He pulled her out, laid her down and checked her pulse again. He didn't notice he was kneeling in her piss or care that he was covered in her blood, who knows, maybe Donnie's blood too. He had to save her. He checked for a Pulse again and put his ear by her mouth. He struggled to find the threadiest pulse he'd ever found in an almost lifeless body. Scully's skin was pale as snow from blood loss, cold from the water, stained by her blood, and her wounds were still bleeding. He put his ear to her lips to hear if she was breathing, to hear the most pathetic, watery wheezing he'd ever heard. He laid her on her side and hit her back, hoping to get some water put, while pulling out his phone and dialing 911.  
“This is agent Fox Mulder of the FBI I need an ambulance immediately to . . . I have an agent down, she's lost a lot of blood, knife wounds. She barely has a pulse, she was submerged in a tub and is struggling to breathe.” He practically said it all in one breath. He didn't know what the phone said back to him, he just put his ear to her mouth again to make sure she was still alive. He hoped he wasn't too late. 

It felt like years before the paramedics got there. He wanted to cover her body, but knew they would need access to her wounds to make sure she didn't have an artery cut open, and to get the intrafusion in her right away. Her heart stopped almost immediately after the paramedics started tending to her, so they had to defibrillate her twice. They squeezed the IV bag to get the blood back in her as fast as they could and threw a blanket on her as they proceeded to get her on a gurney and into the ambulance. They told Mulder there was no way he could come in the back due to the extent and complexity of her injuries, so he raced after the ambulance in his car. The paramedics were surprised to find that there was a dead body in the same room and called another ambulance to pick up Pfaster. Mulder was completely in shock and had forgotten all about him, all he thought about was saving Scully. He didn't care about him anyways. He was just glad that piece of shit was dead.

At the hospital they tried to stop him from going in. His clothes were still wet with bloody bubble bath water and piss, but he showed his badge and walked past security, muttering something about impeding an investigation. He was reeling. Skinner was blowing up his phone, so he took the battery out. Scully was already in the OR getting sewn up. He watched almost the entire surgery practically without blinking, fear and mania fueling his undivided attention. After a few hours he realized they were prepping her pubic area for stitches. He had a flashback to when he first saw Pfaster in the bathroom. He raped her, he thought to himself in disbelief. He couldn't watch them sew up her vagina and anus, and he knew she wouldn't want him to. Mulder was so happy he killed that son of a bitch now. But he was so fucking angry at himself for not showing up before this shit had happened. I could've stopped this from happening. Why did I leave her alone with that son of a bitch on the loose?

Mulder decided to change. If Scully was to regain consciousness and ask to see him any time soon, he needed to look put together, and not covered in remnants of the crime scene. He practically flew home, threw his clothes in a plastic bag, showered, scrubbed his skin like he'd touched the devil, and put on clean clothes. He opened the door out of his apartment to head back to the hospital and almost walked right into Skinner. 

“Mulder where the hell have you been I've been trying to get a hold of -”

Mulder shoved passed him, “Not now Skinner I'm busy-”

Skinner grabbed his arm. Mulder was clean but completely disheveled. His eyes were bloodshot and the bags under his eyes looked like he hadn't slept in weeks. Skinner looked him in the eyes and paused, struggling to find the right words to go the right way about this. Skinner was mad but wanted to be gentle, knowing what Mulder had probably just went through.

“Look Mulder I know you're not oka-”

“Damn right I'm not okay. I'm not okay, Scully's not fucking okay, she's in the goddamn hospital-”

“I know Mulder, but she can't see you like this, not after what just happened to her,” Skinner said quietly yet angrily through his teeth. “Get some sleep. I don't think she wants to see any man right now, not even you.”

Mulder was furious, but he also knew Skinner was right. The staff at the hospital wouldn't let any male visitors or staff work around Scully until she was conscious and had consented to it and requested visitors directly. He had already thought about this, but he also knew he could likely get in anyways if he weaseled his way through with his badge. 

But was that what she really wanted? He couldn't guess, because she couldn't ask. Shit she can't even call me, my phone is still off. Mulder was so deep in thought he forgot Skinner was standing right there, and he shoved his phone battery back in his phone. He looked up and was surprised to find Skinner still there, giving him a What the fuck, dude? look. Then he dropped his eyes and looked back up at Mulder with concern. Skinner was silent for a moment, then sighed.

“Mulder I. . . I want to support you and Agent Scully however I can. Is there anything at all I can do to help?”

Mulder was shocked by the authenticity of what Walter had just said. Usually he'd act bratty and just walk away or make a sarcastic reply. He didn't trust anyone. But what he saw broke him, unlike any other X-File or violent crimes case he'd seen before. Unlike Scully in a hospital bed in a coma after her abduction, or dying of cancer, or being shot. Mulder tried to keep a straight face but his face cracked, like Scully's after the first time Pfaster had abducted her. He started crying hysterically and Skinner held him in the hallway. It must've been at least five minutes, and they were silent all the while. Part of Mulder would always have some distrust towards Skinner, but another part of him loved him and knew that he could be trusted, at least to some extent. So he momentarily let go. Fox was also extremely vulnerable right now, his partner had almost died at the hands of a monster. Skinner had reached out to him for support and it ended the shock Mulder was in. He didn't even realize he was still in a state of shock because he hadn't felt safe until Skinner had spoken kindly to him.

When Mulder finally stopped crying so hard, Walter gently patted his back. “I think you should get some rest Mulder. Like I said, I know you're not okay and she's not okay, and as badly as you want to see her that's not going to happen tonight. You need to take care of yourself so you can be ready if you want to be able to see her when she's ready. You know she'll call you when she can.” Now Skinner was trying not to cry. He really loved Scully and cared about her too. He was horrified by what had happened to her too.

Mulder nodded and sighed. “Am I going to lose my job because I killed him?” Mulder asked, realizing he'd shot an unarmed man.

“Mulder, he was a prison escapee found guilty of murder, defiling corpses, abduction, and was in that act of assaulting and attempting to kill a federal agent in her own home when you put that bullet in his head. They're going to give you a fucking medal.” Mulder winced when Skinner said “assault,” remembering once again and the crime scene that unfolded before his eyes. His eyes filled with tears again.

“I was almost too late,” Mulder whispered softly. “I was too late,” he croaked out, voice breaking, throat full of tears, raising his hand to cover his eyes.

Skinner grabbed Mulder's shoulders and looked him in the eyes. “Listen to me Mulder. This is not your fault. There was nothing more you could've done. You got there as fast as you could, you ended that son of a bitch and he's never gonna hurt her or anyone else ever again, and you saved Scully's life. You can't blame yourself for this. And no matter how fucked up whatever happened to her was, she's alive. Because of you. She'd be dead right now if you weren't there, do you understand?”

Mulder nodded several times while Skinner spoke. Mulder let out a sigh of relief. He also knew it would hurt Scully more if he showed guilt. He had to be okay for her. He had to. 

“Okay. Okay. . .” Mulder whispered, turning around walking back into his apartment. It was 4 o'clock in the morning.

“Try to get some sleep, okay Mulder? And I really meant it when I said anything I can do to help, just ask okay? Promise me if you need anything you'll call me.”

“Sure, yeah, I promise.” Mulder quietly shut the door and laid on his couch. He proceeded to cry himself to sleep. Maybe it was minutes, maybe hours, but he did get some sleep.

Mulder had forgotten to turn off his alarm, but by some miracle, slept through it. He had horrible nightmares of Pfaster hurting and killing Scully. He jerked awake around 2 PM to his phone ringing. He grabbed it answered immediately, “Hello?”

“Hi Fox. This is Mrs. Scully. . .”

Shit shit shit. He didn't tell her mom what had happened, did she know? Did Scully call her? Was her mom her emergency contact? Had the FBI contacted her? Was he about to have to explain what had happened to her?

“Yes Mrs. Scully this is Fox Mulder I, uh. . .” he stupidly said, not knowing what to say.

“I just thought you'd want an update on Dana. She's not awake yet but she made it through her surgeries and uh. . .” Margaret's voice broke before she could finish her sentence. She'd tried to cough and continue. “I don't know when she'll be able to have any visitors, she's in the ICU right now, but they're taking good care of her.” Her voice broke again. She cleared her throat and paused. “I'll keep you updated. She's gonna be okay she's gonna be okay” she started crying and whimpering at the end of that line. 

“Mrs. Scully I'm on my way-”

“No it's okay Fox you can't see her anyways-”

“It's-it's ok Mrs. Scully I-I can wait there with you. You don't have to go through this alone.”

“I'm fine, really, I-”

“I don't want to go through this alone either,” he pleaded. They were both silent for a while.

Then Mrs. Scully struggled to whisper through sobs, “Okay.”

“I'll be right there,” Mulder said before hanging up. He was already almost fully clothed. He rubbed the wrinkles he could out of his clothes, brushed his teeth, fixed his hair, threw on some shoes and a coat and headed to his car. He hadn't eaten in almost 24 hours, or drank water. His head was pounding from dehydration and his stomach was rumbling, but he just wanted to get to the hospital. Maybe I can get something there, he lied to himself.


	2. Alternate Orison Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully is brutally attacked and violently violated by Donnie Pfaster. Now she's in the hospital. How will she and Mulder react to what has happened? And Mrs. Scully cause every time Scully goes to the hospital her mom is there. . . Poor mama.
> 
> Trigger warning: Rape, violence, gore, fucked up shit yo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, let's deal with the mess I've made. So this is obviously not gonna be the final chapter, give me some time mkay, I just wrote all this shit today and I still have other work to do. I'm not satisfied without an ending either, although honestly I don't think I'll ever be satisfied anyways. But this is a start. Idk I might revise this one a thousand times. We'll see.

When Mulder arrived at the hospital, Mrs. Scully was sitting on a bench in a hallway, with a tissue in her hand. Her eyes were red and swollen, her nose was red too, and she stared at the ground with a lost look in her eyes. He stopped walking towards her and took in the sight for a minute, trying to mentally prepare himself for what came next. How could he face her? How could he comfort her when he still hurting so much himself? But he was already there. He swallowed his fears and approached her with a sad look on his face.

“Mrs. Scully?” Mulder said.

Margaret looked up at him. “Hi-” she said, her voice cracking at the end of the single syllable word. She began to weep. Mulder sat down next to her on the bench and wrapped his arms around her. He tried hard to hold back his own tears.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, his own voice breaking. He had been through so many things before, seen so many terrible things, but this was just so different. It was only then he realized what a monster Donnie Pfaster really was, and he was the scariest one he or Scully had faced during their entire time working on The X-Files. And he cried.

“How. . . can someone _be_ . . . so _evil. . ._ ” Margaret said, between sobs. “How. . . how could. . . could someone do this to my little _girl_?” she said, sobbing loudly at the end.

All Mulder could say was, “I’m so sorry, I’m so, so, sorry. . .” with tears streaming down his face.

“She’s. . . she’s gonna be okay though, right?” Mrs. Scully pleaded, looking into Mulder’s eyes, begging for reassurance. “She’s gonna be okay. . .” she repeated, more to convince herself than to ask Mulder. She wept quietly and looked off in the distance again.

Fox didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t sure if he should tell her Scully _was_ going to be okay, or the truth: that no one actually knew whether or not she’d _really_ be okay. So he didn’t say anything.

His stomach rumbled loudly, and Mrs. Scully looked at it and then him. “Have you eaten anything, Fox?” she asked.

Mulder looked down and wiped the tears from his eyes. “I’m okay,” he lied.

“Are you sure? I can show you where the cafeteria is,” she said, her voice still shaky from crying. She did care about him taking care of herself, but she also could use the distraction.

“Actually, if you wouldn’t mind. . .” Mulder trailed off. He didn’t need to finish his sentence, though.

Mrs. Scully wiped her face with her tissue, pulled another out of her purse and handed it to Fox, then slowly stood up. After he’d wiped his face, she sighed heavily and began walking. It would be one of the hardest meals for Mulder to stomach in his life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Scully slowly came into consciousness. Her body felt heavy from the painkillers the doctor prescribed her preemptively. She felt as if she was floating on a cloud, in the place between asleep and awake. . . and hen the memories flooded into her head. In the tub. Trying to breathe. Trying to get away. She started panicking, tried to lift her head, but too weak. Her neck was strained. She felt shooting pain from her back, breasts, arms, legs, stomach, and crotch, everywhere Pfaster had cut her and where her insides had been sewn back together. Her head was throbbing from being smashed onto her tile floor.  She shook with fear, having no idea where she was, unable to open her eyes and immobilizing, unbearable pain.

The heart monitor began beating faster as her breathing became more labored, her heart rate rapidly climbing. She again tried to lift her neck but searing pain shot down her spine. She tried to scream, but no noise came out, and she was in agony from the flexion of her abdominals starting to pull at her stitches. Scully started to cry, feeling completely helpless, vulnerable, _weak._

A nurse eventually came in. They said words to her she could not hear over the ringing in her ears, the suffocating feelings of terror, the thoughts of powerless defeat. She could not move, she could not scream, all she could do was cry and whimper. Each sob, each breath hurt the tender, swollen knife wounds about her body. Her mind was foggy from a drug cocktail, the concussion, and the crippling mix of titanic emotions that weighed so heavy on her brain. After a while, she started to feel a sense of relief. As physically painful as it was, it felt so good _emotionally_ to cry. She also began to think her fears were over, somehow she knew she was safe wherever she was. _A hospital. . ._ she realized, as she understood at last what the beeping noise coming from the heart monitor was. She was alive. _But is he?_

The thought of Donnie Pfaster being alive frightened her very faintly, but not with the same panic as when she awoke, and she slowly started to fade into unconsciousness. The nurse had given her anti-anxiety medication, that helped calm her down swiftly, just before she drifted back to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next time Dana woke up, her face was not nearly as swollen. She could finally open her eyes, but the small amount of light creeping into her room was blinding, and her vision was completely blurred. She was cold, but drenched in sweat. She had a nightmare of what Pfaster had done to her. She was relieved to find herself not in her home when she woke up, but horrified when she remembered the nightmare wasn’t really just a dream. She tried to sit up, but again, her wounds pained her too much, and she was too weak. She had no idea how long she’d been in the hospital or unconscious. She didn’t know if Pfaster was alive or not, if anyone had come to see her, or anything that had happened between her apartment and the hospital. She felt a wave of panic overtake her. She had absolutely no control over her situation, or even her body, and it frightened her.

She felt around her bed with shaky hands, trying to find the call button for the nurse. She didn’t find the call button, but did manage to feel the buttons of a bedside phone. Scully felt for the notch of the 5 button and dialed Mulder’s number, all the while her head was still facing up since she could not sit up. She struggled to bring the phone towards her face with shaking arms when it started ringing.

“Hello?” Mulder answered.

Scully tried to say something, but all that came out was a moan.

“Scully? Is that you?”

Dana couldn’t speak and she didn’t know why. She wanted so badly to beg him to come to her. She felt so weak, and once again, all she could do was cry.

“Scully I’ll be right there, okay? I’m on my way right now,” Mulder said in a nurturing voice.

Scully sighed heavily and pressed where she thought the end button was. The emotional rollercoaster she’d just went on and the struggle just to dial Mulder’s number and bring the phone to her face had completely drained her of energy, and she fell back asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been four days since the night of her attack. Mulder was in his apartment when he received Scully’s call. At least he thought it was Scully. He drove frantically to the hospital to see Scully. After reaching the hospital, he quickly walked to the ICU. He tried to walk past the nurses’ station, but a nurse yelled, “Hey!” at him, and a security guard got up from a chair and started walking towards him.

Mulder reached in his pocket for his badge while the admittance nurse started asking him who he was there to see.

“I’m Special Agent Fox Mulder with the FBI, I’m here to see Special Agent Dana Scully,” he said nervously. He was afraid Scully needed him, but he wouldn’t be able to see her if she wasn’t able to tell the nurses she wanted visitors yet. He definitely wasn’t family, and he didn’t know whether or not another agent had come by to take her statement. He had already given his statement to Skinner the day after Scully’s attack, and would soon half to face a panel of suits telling the same story so they could question him why he hadn’t gotten to Scully sooner, and why he had the key to her apartment and showed up uninvited in the first place.

The nurse looked through Scully’s file, then looked up at Mulder. “Why are you here to see Ms. Scully?”

“I think she called me about half an hour ago. I received a phone call from this hospital, whoever it was wasn’t able to speak,” Mulder said, committing to the honest route.

“Ms. Scully is in no condition for visitors, and I highly doubt she’s capable of giving anyone a phone call right now. She’s been conscious for less than an hour total since her arrival here, Mr. Mulder. I’m afraid she can’t have visitors anyways until she verbally consents to visitation due to the nature of her injuries,” said the nurse.

_Fuck._ “Well can you at least go make sure she’s okay? If she did just call me, she might be trying to contact people but she needs assistance if she can’t speak.”

“Look, all I can tell you is that she is in our care, and she is in satisfactory condition.”

“Please. . .” Mulder begged, “please just go check on her and make sure she’s okay.”

The nurse was quiet for a minute, and looked over to the security guard. “Can you make sure he stays here?”

The security guard nodded.

“I’ll be right back,” said the nurse.

“Thank you,” said Mulder.

The minutes felt like hours, but he was relieved that someone was at least going to make sure she was okay. After about fifteen minutes the nurse came back.

“How is she?” Mulder asked quickly, nervously.

“She’s asleep. Like I told you. The phone was near her face though. I’m not going to wake her up, but when she does finally wake up, I’ll ask her if she tried to call you, and let her know you came to see her.

“Thank you, so much. I really appreciate it,” Mulder said.

“You’re welcome,” said the nurse.

Unable to see Scully, and with nothing else to do, Mulder decided to go back home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After about a week had passed, Scully was finally able to speak. She called her mother first, and asked her to bring her some of her things. She also asked her to bring her a stuffed animal. Mrs. Scully thought her daughter’s request was strange, but didn’t question it. She’d get her poor baby anything to make her feel better.

Scully thought about calling Mulder, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She was too afraid of what he thought of her. . . Too afraid of how he’d react to seeing her in the state she was in. She couldn’t look him in the eye, especially when she felt so incredibly weak and powerless. She knew he'd try to comfort her, and that it would only make her feel worse. She just wanted to forget this terrible event ever occurred. She didn't want to talk about it, think about it, face it, face her feelings, face his feelings, face him. She wanted to just go back to work and be healed already, go on to the next case like everything was fine. She knew I'd she saw Mulder, he wouldn't let her just forget.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The day had finally come when Scully asked to see Mulder. Ten long, excruciatingly painful days had passed since the attack, and she finally decided to see him. Scully had never dreaded seeing Fox so much before. Alas, she told herself she was ready. Even if _she_ wasn't ready, she knew _he_ was. He'd been dying to see her, and she sensed it. She knew him well enough to know the devastating anxiety he must be going through. If she was being honest with herself, she was really just going to see him for _his_ sake and _his_ mental health, not her own.

When Mulder arrived, he walked in the room slowly and quietly, taking in the aura and energies of the room, examining everything. Scully had been moved from the ICU to a regular room. Scully was in the hospital bed, her mother in a chair near her bed.

Dana's face was thin and pale. She looked as if she was made of paper. Her lips were chapped, IV in her arm, and her wounds on them wrapped up, still healing. A feeding tube still in her nose. Her beautiful, vibrant, red hair contrasted with her pale, dry skin. Mulder could tell she'd lost weight. She looked up at him with tired, bright blue eyes. They locked on him, yet he sensed she was not really there.

“I can't get her to eat anything. Neither can the doctors or nurses. Maybe you can try,” said Mrs. Scully anxiously to Mulder, as if Dana wasn't in the room.

Mulder very slowly walked towards the bed, Scully's eyes following him. For a moment he saw her lying in a hospital bed when she had cancer. Somehow she looked worse now. Scully was on loads of pain medications, and Mulder could see the disassociation in her eyes, her pinpoint pupils. “How are you feeling?” he asked her quietly.

She broke eye contact with him, looked down, swallowed, and said nothing.  He wanted to kick himself for asking such a stupid question. But then again, was there a right thing to say, a right question to ask after what happened?

“Why won't you eat?” he asked gently. She still didn't look at him. Her face started to twitch, she was trying to hold back whatever she was feeling. She was trying to maintain a strong facade, but was clearly far from it. Scully didn't want Mulder to pity her. And she was completely uncomfortable with the idea of telling him or her mom why she was afraid to eat. It would be too humiliating and embarrassing, another layer of pain she couldn't take. Plus if they didn't know, they couldn't talk her into it. Still, she struggled to hold back the tears.

“Mrs. Scully, could you give us a moment?” Mulder asked.

She was quiet and looked at him confused for a moment, then looked at Dana. “Are you okay with that sweetheart?"

Dana nodded her head without looking at her mom. It hurt her neck to nod, but she was afraid if she tried to speak, she'd cry.

“Okay, baby. I'll be right outside if you need me honey, okay?” Mrs. Scully was practically on the verge of tears herself. Dana painfully nodded again without looking at her, this time frowning, still trying to hold in her tears.

Mrs. Scully left the room, and right after the door shut, Dana let out a huge sigh. She hadn't even realized she was holding her breath. Out with it came the tears. She cried heavily, her face distorted, but she forced herself not to sob loudly. Mulder instinctively went to reach her to try to comfort her, but stopped himself before he reached her. He couldn't touch her unless she verbalized she was okay with that, and he was afraid to ask. He grabbed tissues instead and offered them to her.

Scully was grateful he didn't touch her. She was far too sensitive, scared, and traumatized right now to be touched by _anyone_ , even Mulder. She loved him to death, but she needed to not be touched by anyone right now, and was grateful he was well-versed enough in sexual assault to know how to approach a victim. He stood silently as she cried for a while, and waited patiently for her to regain her composure, or some semblance of it.

Now her eyes, nose, and cheeks were bright reddish pink, but she felt a whole lot better already. “I missed you,” Scully said, and started crying again. “I'm. . . Sorry. . .” she struggled to gasps out between sobs.

“It's okay Scully, it's okay. You have nothing to be sorry about, you've done nothing wrong,” Mulder cooed, trying to comfort her.

She managed to stop sobbing, but the tears didn't stop. She let a gasp of air out again. She still hadn't made eye contact with him since he entered the room, and she looked up at him, apologetically. He could see the tremendous amounts of fear, guilt, shame, embarrassment, and pain in her eyes. _He saw, he knows what happened. He'll never treat me the same again._ “I don't want you to pity me,” she said, voice distorted from tears and the drugs.

Mulder looked at her with sad, pleading eyes. “I could never pity you,” he half smiled, and scoffed. “You're too badass for that, Special Agent Dana Scully.”

She half smiled at his joke, but continued crying. She reached out for his hand. “Can you hold me?” she asked him, her eyes looking up at him and pleading.

“Of course,” he said, and they shifted her on the bed so he could fit. She wanted to curl up in a ball on his lap, but her stitches didn't give her enough leeway and any movement at all hurt, so she just rested her head on his chest and pulled his arms to direct him to wrap them around her. She felt so much better in his arms. Part of her was screaming with discomfort, but she took a small refuge in the safety of his arms.

Dana realized that she really did want to tell him why she didn't want to eat, but she was so afraid. It was so painfully awkward. And what if he reacted in a way that hurt her? What if he laughed? _He wouldn't laugh,_ she thought to herself. She knew he had too much respect for her to do that. But she was afraid he just wouldn't have the right words to say.

“Is there anything you want to talk about?” Mulder interrupted her thoughts.

Scully thought quietly some more. “I want to know what happened,” she said. “How did I get here? All I remember is. . .” she trailed off, with no intention to finish her sentence. The tears forced their way out of her eyes harder.

“Are you sure that's what you want to talk about right now?" Mukder asked. Scully waited. "I'll tell you if you want, but do you think it's too soon? I don't want to. . ." The word was "trigger," but he was afraid to say it. The last thing he wanted was to make Scully, covered in stitches, in the room alone with him, have a panic attack or a flashback. It would look like he'd done something wrong, she might associate him with that bad memory from now on, and she might hurt herself if she had a panic attack that manifested physically. Not to mention he was in her room _alone_ with her, in her bed.

Dana thought about it for a while. “If it's too much I'll tell you to stop,” she said.

“Okay,” he replied. Mulder collected his thoughts for a moment. She rubbed her hands on his in a trance like state. Keeping her hands busy was soothing in a strange way. “I tried calling your phone, a lot-”

“I heard it,” she interrupted. They were both silent for a second and then Scully realized she'd interrupted him, and that was why he paused. “Sorry I didn't mean to stop you. . .” she trailed off. Her judgement wasn't clear at all right now with all the painkillers in her system.

“It's okay. Anyways, I called your phone several times, and you didn't answer. I was worried. I went to check on you. . . I sensed something was wrong. I even came in your front door with my gun drawn. Your apartment was a mess, furniture everywhere, and I could hear. . . Splashing in water. . . Coming from your bathroom, when I was in your bedroom.” He paused, wanting to make sure she'd stop him if she didn't want him to proceed. She just kept tracing his fingernails with her fingertips, and repositioned her back so there wasn't as much pressure on her wound. “I kicked open the bathroom door and. . . There was. . . Blood. . . A lot of it. . ." His voice got quieter. "I didn't even see you at first, but. . . You were. . . still. . . Still in. . . the tub. . . with him.” He stopped as his voice started to crack. He didn't want to cry. He didn't want to go on either, but somehow Scully seemed too disassociated to be triggered. “He jumped out of the tub. . . and I shot him in the head, and the chest.”

“ _Yes!_ ” Scully hissed. _Oh thank God,_ she thought to herself, feeling relieved. “Is he dead?” she asked.

“Yes, he's gone. I, uh, I actually forgot about him right after I shot him” he said. “I ran. . . Um, I ran to the tub to. . . To pull you out." Mulder was actually in a trancelike state himself. "I was. . . I was in total shock, so much my-my hands were-were shaking and my heart. . ." He gulped. "-was beating so loud, I couldn't-I couldn't find your pulse. . ." Mulder was having an anxiety attack now. His heart was racing. "You'd lost. . . so much blood. . ." He tried to regain control of his breathing. "I called the ambulance. . . I'd forgotten his body was even in the room." Mulder sighed. "I was just. . . trying. . . _so_ hard, just to-just to keep you alive. I tried to-to make a tourniquet, for your wounds, but I'm. . . not as good at the medical stuff as you."

Mulder had to stop so he wouldn't cry. After about a minute, he continued. "The paramedics got there and uh. . . They called the coroner for his body. I uh. . . Completely forgot he was there, to call it in." He sighed deeply again. His voice was breaking, eyes filling with tears. "When the. . . Paramedics got there, um. . ."

"It's okay to cry, Mulder," Scully said gently.

Mulder tried to clear his throat, suck back in his tears. _Be strong for her. You're supposed to be comforting_ her _, not the other way around._ "I. . . I didn't know. . . If you were going to make it," he managed to finish his sentence. He wanted to cry so badly, but he would not let himself. Scully was trying not to cry now. She felt so sorry for him, for herself. "You almost. . . Almost didn't." He paused. "Your heart stopped beating. . . Twice." He couldn't hold back the tears now. "I'm so _sorry_ Scully, I'm so. . ." he started sobbing. Scully was crying, too, now.

"It's. . . _Not_ . . . Your fault-" Scully whispered between sobs. They cried hysterically together. Mulder crying made Dana feel so much better, she was not as afraid of appearing weak as she was before. And how she knew she wasn't _alone_. They cried for several minutes together, her still lying between his arms. He nuzzled his face against hers. He never wanted to let anyone hurt her ever again. He wanted to spend the rest of their days on earth trying to make every day the best day of her life, make her so happy she'd never remember that terrible night.

But nights like that aren't easy to forget. If they are ever forgotten at all.

After some time had passed, the tears had stopped flowing, and their breathing was returning to normal, Mulder grabbed tissues for the both of them. It really hurt Scully to move her arms, so he offered to help her. After their tears were dried. He sat in the chair next to the bed.

“What was he doing when you found me?” Scully asked him.

Mulder was terrified to answer. He knew Donnie Pfaster was raping Scully in that tub when he bust down that door. But he didn't know if Pfaster har waited until Scully was unconscious before he started sexually assaulting her, or if he'd done it while she was awake. There was no way she didn't know what he'd done to her by now, surely she felt pain from it. She had stitches for fucks sake. He let out a quiet, exasperated sigh. He didn't want to say it. His silence was answer enough, but she had to be absolutely certain.

“You said I was in the tub with him,” she said. Her breath became more shallow and quick. “What was he doing?” she asked again. Mulder remained silent. Her heart rate climbed. She tried to look in his eyes but he kept his them low.

“Scully-”

“Was he. . . _fucking_ me. . . in the tub, when you came in? Is that what you saw?” she asked, tears pouring out if her eyes, her face twisted in fear and anger. Again, Mulder was silent. “Why won't you answer me,” she said softly.

“He was,” Mulder finally said, this time finally looking in her eyes, tears streaking down his face again. “I didn't- I didn't really _see. . ._ that part, I just. . . Just saw him. . . get _out_ of the tub. But you were both. . . naked. . ." He spared her the gory details of Pfaster's blood-covered hard on. "I know. . . what he did to you,” he managed to say through the tears. He looked at her, then to the floor. They were both filled to the brim with sorrow and pain. “I'm so, _so_ sorry, Scully,” he whispered.

“I'm sorry too," Scully cried. "You did. . . everything you could. . .You saved me " she said quietly. "I'm just. . . glad. . . you didn't find. . . my _body_ in there." She had to stop talking to cry and gather some breath. "I thought. . . I though _for_ _sure. . ._ I was going to die." She sobbed loudly and panted again. "I don't know how I didn't. . . But I thank God, and you, that I'm alive,” she said. “You did everything you could've done and you saved me,” she repeated.

He wiped her tears, and she tried to raise an arm to wipe his, but couldn't. They cried for a little while more, Mulder grabbed some more tissues. It took longer for Scully to calm down this time, but eventually she did.

“Scully, can I ask you something, now?" She looked down and frowned. She didn't really want this to be a trade-questions deal, but she'd at least hear it.

“You can ask, but I can't promise I will answer,” she replied.

“Okay," Mulder accepted. "Why aren't you eating? Why won't you say why?”

She kept her eyes low. Her face started breaking again. She mustered up the courage to finally say it. “I don't want. . . anything . . . _in_. . . me. . . And I'm afraid. . . it will hurt. . . when . . . when it comes out. . .” she broke out between sobs. She was hyperventilating.

“It's okay Scully, you're safe with me," he reached to hold her hand in his, and looked her in the eyes. "I'm not going to make you do anything, _anything_  that you don't want to do, okay?” She nodded her head slowly. “Hey, let's try to focus on our breathing right now, okay?” She nodded her head again and tried to slow down her breath, taking deeper breaths. Each time it was taking her longer to collect herself and regulate her breathing. He knew she'd had enough emotional talk today.

“Mulder. . . can you do something for me, please?” Scully asked.

“What would you like me to do?” he replied.

“Will you talk to someone about this?”

He paused and pressed his lips in a hard line. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“I mean, can you see someone and talk to them about what you saw?”

She meant a therapist. He didn't like the thought of talking to a stranger about his feelings. He didn't like talking about his feelings _at all,_ in general, and he didn't really trust _anyone,_ except Scully.

“Please?” she asked again.

He thought about it for a while. She was right, he really did need to talk to someone about it. He was so focused on Scully, he didn't really give much thought about how what had happened was affecting him. He may not have been physically harmed the same as Scully, but he was definitely traumatized by what he'd seen, what he'd been through. "If you really want me to, I will," Mulder agreed reluctantly. "Can you do the same, Scully?" he asked.

"Of course," she said quietly. "Thank you," she said. Mulder had no idea what he was being thanked for, and they sat there awkwardly and quietly for a few minutes.

Scully was deep in thought. She wanted so badly to get out of that fucking bed and just go back to work. Traveling the country, trying to solve challenging mysteries, saving lives healing people. Laying in that bed 24 hours a day was really wearing her down. She'd daydreamed about work for all of the days she was conscious in the hospital. And she had a singeing fear. _What if they don't let me back?_ If she could not work for the FBI again, Donnie Pfaster really would have taken _everything_ from her. The thought of never being able to work on The X-Files again made her so depressed.

"Do you think they'll ever let me back to work after this?" Scully asked, staring at the ceiling, not an ounce of hope in her voice.

Mulder sighed at the question, opened his mouth-

"-Don't answer that," Scully said quickly before he could reply. She didn't want him to say "yes" and be wrong, that he didn't know, or "no." No matter what he'd say it would feed into her growing doubt and fear, further pushing her into the throws of depression.

Her eyes burned from all of the tears. She was mentally and emotionally _exhausted_ , and had no energy to speak anymore. "I think I'd like to go to sleep now," she said slowly, drowsily.

"Okay, Scully. Do you want your mom to come back in?"

"No," she replied immediately.

"Okay. . . If you need me, you know how to reach me?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, so tired it was almost a whisper. She was hardly conscious at all, and then fell asleep.

"Goodnight," he whispered. He stood up and quietly walked out of the room, silently closing the door behind him.


End file.
